Page 20 of The Last Dragon
“Look, you don’t like me. Fine. I don’t need to be liked. And maybe we got off on the wrong foot. But you’re leading a unit known to dive head-first into dragon territory, and you’re gonna need people who don’t flinch when things get ugly,” he continues, his voice more serious.
“I already have enough in my unit,” I respond. “People who are reliable. People I trust.” Yet I’m unsure what to say about Nida.
“Cute,” he mocks. “Trust doesn’t stop teeth and fire. I’m offering skills.”
His words actually coax a scoff out of me. Pathetic. “What could you possibly offer me? A way to talk myself out of being torched by a dragon? Or are you willing to be used as bait?” Myvoice is laced with quiet disdain. “I doubt you even know how to aim a crossbow. And I bet you couldn’t tell a Wingtail’s tracks from a Horntongue’s if your life depended on it.”
“Hey, I’ve g—”
“I don’t do charity,” I interrupt, stepping forward. “You need to earn your spot in my unit, oranyunit for that matter. And you already blew it on Division Day. Whatever unit the general cobbles together for you, that’s the unit you can leech off of. But keep away from mine. If I ever see you near me or my unit, next time I won’t hold back on that fragile neck of yours.”
That shut him up. He doesn’t even breathe, and for a minute there’s a flicker of satisfaction building in my gut. His muscles are tense, in contrast to my relaxed stance. I’ve met people like him before—had people like that in my unit. The lessons I’ve learned from trusting them will forever be carved in my skin.
“Now move,” I say in a low voice.
Keeping his eyes down, he gulps and steps aside.
I pass him without a glance, the sound of my boots echoing off the stone walls. Each step feels heavier the further I go, like my body’s carrying more than just muscle. Like it’s dragging old ghosts behind me. And I’m silently hoping Nida won’t be one of them.
The hallway narrows, and the chatter of other cadets roaming the halls fades, but my thoughts don’t. They press in, louder than Alex’s voice, louder than Nida’s breath, louder than the general’s command.
What if I fail them?Again. What if I hold another comrade in my arms and watch them bleed out? Because ofme. The names of every soldier I couldn’t protect haunt my thoughts, but I try to shake them away.
I was trained to kill. Not to think. Not to reflect. Not to feel.
So I shut it off.
I push open the door to my quarters and let it close behind me, the latch clicking like a final word. I’m alone. Just the way it should be.
Right?
CHAPTER 9
Two days slipped by after the general assigned Nida as my Tracker. But I haven’t spoken to her or said anything to my unit. Nor do I intend to. Only because I still think I can get myself out of this. Nida hasn’t said a word either.
I watch how two cadets argue with one another in the cafeteria as I silently chew on my food. I can’t make out what their argument is about, but one of them is getting more annoyed by the minute.
The rest of my unit sits with me around the table. Eryca, as always, narrows her eyes at me the moment I look in her general direction. Sam sits quietly beside me, and Ilian and Raumen are discussing the essentials of skinning fur to keep oneself warm during winter. Not exactly the ideal topic around the lunch table. Eventually, the daily food complaint finds its way to the conversation.
“What is this?” Ilian grimaces, pulling out a spoon wrapped in gruel. “Horse shit?”
“That’s an insult to the horse,” Eryca says.
Ilian sighs with acceptance. “At least we get your bellies full here. Back in the Front, I’d gladly eat horse shit just to get my belly full.” Ilian shoves half the spoon into his mouth, as if hoping to keep it from touching his tongue. “But this is the closest thing to horseshit.”
Eryca wrinkles her nose, her face turning nearly green. “That’s after you run out of grass and tree bark.”
“I bet folk from the Middle get to fill their bellies with so much good food. Like potatoes and cooked venison,” Ilian says dreamily.
“At least we have bread,” Raumen says with a mouthful, waving around a piece of bread he just bit from. “Besides, Nedersen has restored trade routes with Velerum again, and we get more wheat and whatever leftovers they can spare.”
“Your village is closer. It’s like a small Middle,” Ilian counters, a smile forming. But it disappears quickly and turns to pure disgust. I guess the food touched his tongue. But he drops the spoon to the gruel again and grabs another bite. “In a few years’ time, it will be the new Middle.” He pauses, munching, then swallows and says, “and the current Middle will merge with the Center.”
Eryca rolls her eyes, nostrils flaring. She despises the Middle just like the rest of us. “Great… we shouldn’t expect anyone to be enlisting from there.”
“I heard the King is considering conscription,” Sam comments. All eyes shift to him, and he flinches, trembling slightly—like a rabbit caught in the open.
“What? Why would he do that?” Eryca’s eyes are blazing.
